by Lisa Plumley
“I always ogle your butt.” He sounded hurt.
“Not anymore.” Jayne hurled a hiking boot over her shoulder, not caring if she clobbered him in the head with it. With dignity, she added, “It’s not your butt to enjoy anymore.”
She got to her feet with an armload of clothes and yesterday’s shoes, feeling energized by the activity. Riley’s hurriedly averted glance told her he had been ogling her. At the realization, all sorts of mixed emotions assaulted her. Anger, that her erstwhile reunited lover dared to lay claim to her in that way. Pride, that her butt was ogle-worthy. Embarrassment, at her juvenile proclamation.
She raised her chin. “You can go find some…some Antiguan butt to ogle!”
“I don’t want Antiguan butt.” His voice was gentle. Shaking his head, Riley came to her. He raised one hand to caress her upper arm, leaving the other clutching his sheet. “I don’t. I don’t want that.”
“Too bad.” Wrenching from his grasp, she crossed the room and pulled out her luggage. She stuffed her things inside the topmost piece. “Because you can’t have me.”
“Jayne—”
Finally! Finally, he was going to explain himself. She paused, not looking at him. When a moment passed and Riley remained silent, she looked over her shoulder. “Yes?”
“I—” Looking frustrated, he gave her a beseeching look.
She straightened and crossed her arms. “What, Riley?”
His frustration only seemed to increase. “I’m out of prepared statements! Damn.” He stomped to the four-poster and kicked it. Grimacing in pain, he hopped on one foot for an instant. “Nope, this isn’t a nightmare. Shit.”
He hoped she was a nightmare? Now Jayne was really hurt.
“‘Prepared statements?’” she repeated, going back to her packing. “What am I? A political problem? A messy scandal? A pending personal injury lawsuit?”
“No.”
She waited for more. Nothing came. “That’s it? ‘No?’”
Riley stood nearby; she could feel him. “I’m trying, Jayne,” he said huskily. “I just woke up, I’m not even dressed yet—”
“Gee, and already you’ve broken my heart. Nice work.”
Silence descended, heavy with hurt. This time, though, Riley did more than fumble over an explanation. He strode to her decisively, the floorboards thundering beneath his feet. He grabbed both her arms, spinning her away from her luggage, and stared down at her.
“I did not break your heart!”
“Oh? And who would know about that?”
“Not you, obviously.”
“I’m the expert!”
“Sure.” Riley nodded. “The heartbreak expert. How could I have forgotten your famous techniques?”
He released her angrily, and Jayne hurled down the T-shirt she’d been packing. “They work! They helped me, and lots of other people.”
He shook his head. “I’d hate to see the kinds of losers you must have dated for your research.”
This was too much. She was too hurt to keep the truth inside anymore, too hurt to hide her feelings. “It was you, all right? You!”
Riley looked puzzled. “Me? Me what?”
“You were the ‘loser’ I dated for research,” Jayne said. Just for a moment, she triumphed in the surprise in his eyes. “You were the one who broke my heart. The one who inspired my anti-heartbreak book. The one—the only one—I could never quite get over. It was you, you, you—”
You, who I feel in love with again. She stopped herself just in time. Tears choked off her voice before she could reveal the most hurtful truth of all. You, who I need.
“It was you,” she whispered.
Suddenly, Riley was there. He pulled her into his arms, but Jayne struggled. The last thing she wanted was his pity.
“Ow!” he yelled. “You kicked me in the shin!”
“Consider it a ‘keep away’ sign.”
“I don’t want to. Jayne—” He followed her to the end of the bed, where she’d stomped to stack her luggage. “Jayne, listen to me. I was starting to change my mind about Antigua. I’d almost decided to look for an assignment closer to home.”
Almost? Almost decided? That was the best he could do? How, exactly, had ‘sweet talk’ like that duped her? “I don’t want your pity,” she said stubbornly.
“It’s not—oh, Jayne.” Riley’s lips pressed against her forehead, her hair, her cheek, as he tried to turn her sideways to face him. His hands were everywhere, encouraging her to let him hold her. “It’s not pity. Look, I should have said this before, but…I had an idea.”
“Wow, alert the media.” She sniffled, wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. She unloaded some clothes for today. She yanked open the zipper of her backpack and surveyed its contents through teary eyes. “Riley Davis has been thinking.”
“I’ve been thinking about you, damn it!”
He spread his arms wide in an emphatic gesture. The motion called Jayne’s attention to his sheet—the lack of it. He stood there completely nude, and completely unbothered by that fact. She guessed if she were a man with a wonderfully carved torso, broad shoulders, and powerful thighs, she might not care either, if—
No! Riley wasn’t hers to ogle anymore, either.
Suddenly, Jayne felt awfully naked. Glancing down at herself, she realized she’d never changed from her sheer pink nightie and slippers.
“Don’t think about me,” she told him as she reached for her clothes. “You’re already on your way to Antigua, remember?”
Geez, she’d really believed he’d changed his mind. Feeling like the biggest idiot who’d even fallen for a charming ex, Jayne kicked off her slippers, watching the marabou trim flutter as they sailed across the room. She stepped into a pair of trail pants. Some jumping up and down and a little wriggling later, she was tucking her nightie into her waistband. Its top and matching panties would have to stand in for underwear. She was in no mood to get naked in front of the man who’d just let it be known she wasn’t good enough to stick around for.
“Listen to me,” Riley said. “About my traveling—”
“Save it.” She pulled on a fleece and socks, then reached for her ATSes. “It’s none of my business. Obviously.”
“But it is your business. I’ve been thinking, we could make our future permanently temporary. Like an arrangement. You know, whenever I’m in town, we could get together. Come on, Jayne. It will be fun.”
Jayne glanced up from her shoes. Riley actually looked hopeful. “Have you lost your mind?”
“I’ve lost my heart.”
“Stop it.” Some things hurt too much to hear.
“We’re perfect together. You liked the hiking!”
As if that explained anything. “I was forced to hike.”
Again, that hurt expression from him. She didn’t get it.
“You’re better at ‘temporary’ now,” Riley insisted doggedly. “I know it could work.”
Blinking back tears, she finished tying her shoes. She looked up. “I don’t want temporary, Riley. I want permanent.”
His jaw literally dropped. He frowned.
“I want stability. Companionship. Lifelong passion.”
He shoved a hand through his hair, seeming confused.
“I can see you don’t want the same things,” Jayne went on. “I guess I should have already known it, but—”
“Damn right, you should have known it! You did know it! I never pretended to be anything but what I am.”
“No, but I let myself pretend.” Feeling indescribably sad, Jayne stood. “I’m sorry. I just can’t date like a man.”
Huh? asked his expression. Riley rallied. “Good thing. I want a woman. I want you.”
She shouldn’t ask it. She shouldn’t. But somehow, Jayne just couldn’t resist. “Enough to skip Antigua?”
He hesitated, and that was it.
“I can’t stay here,” she said, hefting her pack.
“You are not leaving.” His fierce expression dar
ed her to disagree.
She did. She also tried to explain. “Remember when we played hooky from fishing, and we agreed to try again?”
He nodded, reluctantly.
“I told you something then,” Jayne said, working to strap on her backpack. “I told you that this time, I wanted to be the one to say goodbye.”
Riley glared at her. He gave a grudging nod. “I remember. But I’ll be damned if I’ll let you—”
“For the first time in my life,” she whispered, “I think I need to be alone.” She couldn’t believe it, but it was true. Drawing in a deep, fortifying breath, Jayne rose on tiptoed ATSes. She pressed a salty kiss to his lips. “This is it. Goodbye, Riley.”
Then, while she still had the strength to do it, Jayne turned away from Riley for the last time, and left him behind.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Riley stared at the open doorway, hardly able to believe what had just happened. Jayne had actually gone. The door creaked as it swung a few inches inward, stirred by her passage. For the first time in his life, he was the one who’d been left behind.
It was horrible.
Listening to her footsteps echo down the hallway, he had the uncomfortable sensation of hearing his future change irrevocably. In that moment, Riley realized exactly how much he’d been hoping things would work between him and Jayne. He realized exactly how much he loved her.
It was you. You were the one who broke my heart. The one who inspired my anti-heartbreak book. The one—the only one—I could never quite get over.
Still stunned by her revelation, Riley put a hand to his head and frowned. He was a goodbye guy. A guy who sent women to heartbreak camp. He, he, was Bozo Boy.
The knowledge put every one of Jayne’s kooky anti-heartbreak techniques in a whole new light. It made him see her, and all her guidance groupies, in an entirely different way. Without meaning to, he’d inspired a whole damned bestselling movement. It was a hell of a lot to make up for.
It was too much to make up for. He’d never promised Jayne anything more than he’d given her, Riley told himself angrily. He’d never offered tomorrow, because he’d always known it wasn’t his to give. It never had been.
But this…this was like every outsider moment he’d ever had, magnified a gazillion times and served up in Technicolor. With surround sound. Left behind by someone he cared about, Riley suddenly knew that loneliness cut both ways. Geography was irrelevant when it came to feeling empty.
He’d always imagined the people he’d left behind carrying on with their lives, instantly obliterating the gap left by his leaving. Now, he wondered. Was it possible they’d hurt? Just like this?
God, he hoped not. This was the worst feeling in the world. It poured through him like cold on an Arctic peak, silent and irrevocable. He might never feel warm again.
He didn’t know what to do. He’d always escaped before this point, had always been on the move before his feelings caught up with him. Now, Riley had the damnable sense there wasn’t a journey long enough to drive back everything inside him.
The blare of an auto horn split the quiet peacefulness outside the lodge. Another blast followed, jolting Riley from his thoughts. His Suburban. The Hideaway Lodge employee who’d agreed to meet him here with it must have arrived.
Automatically, he moved to the corner where he’d tossed his pack. He dressed, putting on his trail pants, a long-sleeved T-shirt, socks and boots. He shoved his hands through his hair and rubbed his gritty eyes, noticing the achiness behind them and then determinedly ignoring it. Numbness edged into the Arctic chill inside him and found a perfect fit.
All he knew how to do was keep moving. Riley didn’t know if the journeying that had always saved him would be enough this time…but it was all he had. Bleakly, he shouldered his pack. He took one last look at the room—the room where he’d loved Jayne.
The room where he’d lost her.
Then, drawing in a deep breath, Riley headed outside, back to the life he’d known and no longer missed. Back to the life he’d so blithely summed up only a few hours before. To see, to do, to conquer, to enjoy.
To grieve.
Damn. With a mighty effort, he swallowed the lump that rose to his throat. He closed the door on the togetherness he’d found with Jayne, brushed the wood with his fingertips one final time. Riley tapped a decisive beat on the hard painted pine, then stepped away. Leaving wasn’t much, but there was still a chance it could save him. Without Jayne, he knew for sure that nothing else would.
Tromping around the forested area beyond the canyon lodge, Jayne lost track of how many steps she took. She lost track of how many logs she scrambled over, how many leafy oaks she passed beneath, how many trails crisscrossed her path. All she could think about was her need to get away.
Right now, the great outdoors seemed as good a place as any to fulfill that need.
She’d stopped by the lodge dining room before leaving, to ask a surprised Mack to take charge of her breakup-ees until she got back. They’d need someone to lean on until it came time to return to the Hideaway Lodge, Jayne had told him—someone responsible.
She hadn’t told him exactly how poorly she herself fit the bill…but more than likely, her red-rimmed eyes and bed-head hair had spoken for themselves. Jayne was a woman out of her element. She wasn’t sure how she would ever find herself again.
Sick with regret, weak with loss, she just kept going. She ascended a hill dotted with green ferns and forest grass, crab-walked sideways with ATS-ensured steadiness down into a gully shaded by pines. Strange as it was, the rugged terrain felt almost comforting to her now—quiet but for the whoosh of the wind, still but for the occasional rustle of a bird, warm but for the icy disappointment inside her. Within it, Jayne walked and walked. Eventually, she came to a place that fit the criteria she’d so recently been trained to look for (sheltered on one side, relatively flat, bare of animal tracks and a short distance from a stream), and dropped her pack.
She needed to think. To plan. To recover. Broken hearts took time to heal, and hers felt more shattered than most. She didn’t think she could face her breakup-ees until she’d come to terms with that, at least a little bit.
Riley’s eagerness to be on his way without her had hurt Jayne deeply. His unchanged plans to leave for Antigua had been a slap in the face to her hopefulness, her vulnerability, her love. Once again, she’d obviously been judged and found wanting…only this time, the stakes were much more serious than a family fishing trip or a touch football game.
Unlike her family’s occasional rejections, Riley’s had been deliberate and precise. She couldn’t make the same excuses for him that she made for her father and brothers. Riley did know better.
At least, she’d thought he did.
I didn’t know I’d hurt you, he’d said on the day they’d snuck away from fishing duty together. I’m sorry.
But not sorry enough to avoid repeating the process, Jayne thought as she went about the business of setting up a small camp for herself. Not sorry enough to stay.
Many minutes later, she’d finished the necessary preparations. Guided by the coaching Riley had given her, she’d laid out her standard-issue Hideaway Lodge sleeping bag and inflatable mattress, prepped her camp stove, erected her tent, and laid out a one-person, stone-encircled campfire in case it got cold.
She didn’t know how long she’d need to stay here. Until the impulse to call Francesca to confess her status as a fraud passed, maybe. Or maybe until her impulse to beg Riley to stay went away.
Nah. There was no way she had provisions to last that long.
Sinking to a seated position atop her sleeping bag, Jayne surveyed her little campsite with a mixture of surprise and pride. She was struck, all at once, by how easily she’d accomplished it. A person would think she’d spent her formative years whittling tent stakes rather than perfecting her mascara technique and constructing the ultimate girly-girl philosophy. She guessed some of this nature stuff had sunk in. She felt almost
…competent at it now.
But feelings didn’t change what she knew to be true, Jayne reminded herself sternly. Feelings didn’t change a person. After she left here, she’d be the same old Jayne—helpless to fit in, always on the outside, unspecial.
Dispirited, she grabbed her backpack and dragged it toward her. Unzipping it, she reached inside to retrieve the copy of Heartbreak 101: Getting Over The GoodBye Guys she always kept with her. Usually, seeing the tangible proof of what she’d accomplished cheered her. If anyone needed cheering right now, it was her.
Her fingers fumbled, encountering nothing that felt like the familiar spine of her hardcover book. Opening the pack wider, Jayne peered into it and realized what was wrong.
This wasn’t her pack.
Oh, no. What had she done? Driven by the need to find out exactly what she’d brought with her into the wild—exactly what she’d be forced to rely on (to wear!) until she returned—Jayne explored further. She unearthed a series of things she recognized from her adventure travel orientation sessions. One by one, she lay them on the sleeping bag beside her.
An ordinary flashlight. Matches. Topos. A water treatment kit. Professional digital camera. First aid kit. Two Snickers bars—
Camera?
Hurriedly, Jayne dug deeper. She found a familiar-looking fleece. A shaving kit. A pack of pre-moistened body towelettes like the ones Riley had given her to—
Riley. This was Riley’s pack. In her haste to get away before she blubbered and begged him to reconsider, she’d grabbed the wrong pack from the bedroom floor.
Jayne smacked her forehead and stared at the supplies spread before her. She’d been too teary-eyed earlier to differentiate between their identical-on-the-outside packs, she figured. But now she saw clearly. And at the sight of the fleece Riley had lent her that night on the balcony while wishing on a star…yearning pushed through her.
She missed him already, the commitment-phobic, wanderlust-crazed jerk.
Well, that was just how pathetic she was, Jayne told herself. Clearly, she needed to get stronger. She needed to do something to empower herself, something that would prove she could handle whatever life threw at her—in spite of the fiasco with Riley. Otherwise, there was no telling how she’d get through this.
